Page 72 of Corrupt Me

Ignoring him is the hardest thing ever, as it goes against my nature. My boots crush the snow, leaving indents with every step I take. I have no idea where I am, but knowing he’s not far gives me the strength to continue, to let myself be carried away. One thing is certain: he would never let anything bad happen to me—except himself.

While my thoughts consume my brain, his nearness soothes my longing heart. I steal a glance over my shoulder. He’s a few steps behind me, a protective shadow—my tormented angel corrupting me like the devil.

I come to an abrupt halt in front of a baby deer, its deep brown eyes fixed on me. I smile, hoping to assure this beautiful creature that I mean no harm. After plucking my phone from my jacket, I take a few pictures. But just as quickly as it appeared, it sprints away. I watch as it rejoins its mother.

And then, to top the aww moment, I see a stag nearby. Its majestic antlers stretch from his skull like a crown. Nature provides the most marvelous pictures. I can’t believe how fortunate I am.

“Did you see that?” I ask, turning to Hunter to share this moment with him. The fresh, cool air paints a reddish hue on his face, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans as he watches me. He looks just as breathtaking as the scenic landscape, with his imposing frame, thick black hair, and silver eyes. His appearance alone has the power to make everything more breathtaking.

“I did,” he says hoarsely, his eyes never breaking contact.

I follow the path the little family disappeared down, hoping to catch another glimpse.

“Watch out,” he says as I slide on a patch of ice, but he’s there to catch me before I fall.Why can’t he just hold on to me and never let me go?

“Thank you.”

“So polite, kitten, even though you’re mad at me.”

“I am constantly mad at you, so it’s a wonder my manners are intact.”

He throws his head back and laughs so wholeheartedly his entire body shakes with the deep sounds, awakening butterflies to dance in my belly.

“Do I make you mad, Bailey?”

“Ugh, you’re insufferable.”

“What else? Let me guess, impossible?”

“Unreachable,” I whisper.

His eyes widen, and I turn around, my heart pounding so fast it feels like it might leap out of my chest.

We walk some more until the cold seeps through the layers of fabric I’m wearing, chills erupting on my skin. I don’t want to return just yet. Nature offers a kind of comfort I’m not ready to relinquish. I know what awaits me once we’re back—a confined space where he’s everywhere.

“We should head back. You haven’t stopped shivering,” he says, his tone laced with worry.

Of course, he notices. I am about to protest when he shrugs out of his winter jacket and throws it over my shoulders.

As he zips it up, I try to push his hands away. “What are you doing? It’s cold.”

“I’m cold-blooded. I won’t freeze,” he says with a playful lilt, but there’s more.

“No, you’re not.”

“Stop it, Bailey. I’m fine,” he insists.

Wearing just a black sweater while the temperature keeps dropping can’t possibly be comfortable. I could argue, but our combined stubbornness will only waste time—and he might freeze before we stop bickering.

I clutch the lapels closed, the added material warming me, but his masculine scent heats my blood. That alone is more efficient than a blanket or a fireplace.

I steal glances at him, but his body never breaks into a shiver. Instead, he watches me wearing his jacket with a satisfied expression as if that’s all he needs.

“I will never understand you,” I sigh.

“That makes two of us.”

“And agreeable. The cold must have frozen your brain.”

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